


The Boy by the Window

by howsthismylife



Category: Captain America (Movies), Stucky - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Team Fluff, but still, start of a relationship, they start out as kids, you can take it however you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsthismylife/pseuds/howsthismylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was this boy that 5 year old Bucky always sees every morning on his way to school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy by the Window

**Author's Note:**

> just a small drabble for the fandom.  
> i've been less motivated in continuing my other fics and this idea just popped into my mind and i just had to write it.

There was this boy that 5 year old Bucky always sees every morning on his way to school. The boy was always staring out his window, down the sidewalk. He always sees him watching over people. Sometimes, Bucky sees him watching them play in the parking lot.

            Bucky would always look up and smile at the boy and the boy would always smile back. He would wave at him like they were long lost friends, and sometimes he would make faces and they both would laugh.

            Bucky was an orphan. He never knew who his parents were. People from the orphanage said they died when he was still a child.

            He never knew family. Never knew what it meant. But at a very young age, Bucky didn’t put too much attention on it.

            Sometimes he would play with the other orphans, Natasha and Clint. Their guardian would supervise them play by the parking lot beside the apartment complex where the boy lived.

            One day, on his way to school, Bucky lifted up the white paper he was holding, showing it to the boy by the window. Bucky had written his name on it with black marker pen. He pointed to himself while holding the paper up so they boy would see and he did. The boy smiled at him widely and for a second his head ducked and Bucky couldn’t see him. The boy then plastered a same white paper on the window with the name ‘Steve’ written on it.

            Bucky giggled. He was making non verbal contact with the boy and now he finally knew his name. Steve.

            He wondered why he was always by the window.

\--

High school came and went. Bucky graduated and decided to join the military. He and Steve had been talking for years since he was five. They’ve became real best friends and Bucky treasured that. He still remembers those first steps in Steve’s apartment where Mrs. Rogers had greeted him warmly.

            Bucky learned that Steve had been on an accident, spinal injury that rendered the lower half of his body paralyzed.

            “I was homeschooled,” Steve had said. “This place doesn’t have an elevator so I couldn’t really get up and down without help.”

            He tried to imagine it. Living for more than a decade only cooped up in their apartment, the only contact with the outside world was by his window.

            “You’re the first actual friend I had,” Steve had smiled at him, big and bright.

            Bucky had introduced Natasha and Clint to Steve when they were growing up. All of them would visit Steve every Friday and play action figures and board games all afternoon until their guardian picks them up.

            He was at Steve’s the day before his graduation. Steve was sitting at his wheelchair sketching at his notebook. Steve was great at drawing. Bucky had seen all of Steve’s work and one of them was of him as a kid holding up a paper with his name on it.

            Bucky studied Steve for a while. He looked at him like he was really _looking_ at Steve; the blonde of his hair, his eyelashes, and his boney hands slowly moving against the white of the paper. He had always liked watching Steve while he draws. It gave him a sense of calmness and peace he never really felt growing up.

            “I’m joining the military,” Bucky said.

            Steve stopped sketching, placed his pencil beside his notebook and looked at him.

            “Good for you,” Steve smiled but it didn’t reached his eyes—Bucky noticed.

            “Steve—“

            “I want to see the city when you get back,” Steve cuts off, “With you.”

            “I—,” Bucky sighed and smiled at Steve, “Sure.”

            “I’ll be going to art school,” Steve said, “Mom said I could.”

            “Steve, that’s great!”

            “We’ll be moving out, too,” Steve looked at him, “Mom found an apartment convenient for both of us, so . . . find me when you get back?”

            “You’re not gonna give me your address?” Bucky raised his brow.

            Steve chuckled and shook his head and said, “Nah. Find me.”

            Bucky shrugged and said, “Fine,” and both of them laughed. He won’t be seeing Steve for a while.

            When Bucky left that night, he hugged Mrs. Rogers and Mrs. Rogers thanked him for being there with his son. Bucky gave Steve one last look and kissed him on his forehead before ruffling his hair.

            “Take care, Bucky,” Steve said.

            “I’ll find you,” Bucky smiled.

\--

Four years had passed and Bucky was back. He hadn’t had any home to come back to but he was back in the city. Maybe he’ll rent an apartment. Maybe he’ll rent an apartment with Steve.

            They had lost contact—he and Steve. Without an address to send letters to, Bucky made it a habit to stare at the sky in hopes that Steve was staring at it, too. They didn’t really think it through, on how they’d communicate when they went their separate ways. He wondered how Steve was doing.

            When he got back he immediately went to find his old friends, Natasha and Clint. He found them on one the most popular shooting range in the city—Hawkeye. It was Clint’s, and Natasha was just pitching in from time to time.

            Bucky was still on his uniform when he barged inside of Hawkeye. Clint immediately recognized him and jumped in for a hug, followed by Natasha who patted him on his back. They talked for a while, exchanged stories about Bucky’s missions.

            “Do you know where Steve lives?” Bucky asked and he saw how Clint and Natasha looked at each other. They smirked and Clint said, “Yeah.”

            It was a fair trade, in exchange of Steve’s address, a couple of beers on Friday night at Shield—one of the best bars in town.

            Bucky thanked them, promised to hang out with them at some time, and then headed off to Steve’s new apartment.

            He didn’t know what to expect when he gets there. Didn’t really know what to say when he sees Steve for the first time in four years but he’d had his white paper with him and hope that Steve remembers him back.

            It was 3 in the afternoon and if Steve has work he’d probably be out working but there was a man by the window on the third floor widely staring back at him. Bucky’s heart thundered on his chest. He lifted up the paper he was holding which said ‘Hi’ and the man smiled back—chuckled even, at him and there was this warmth in Bucky’s stomach that he couldn’t explain.

            He saw the man ducked his head like the first time it happened. The man then plastered a same white paper on the window that said ‘Hi’ and they both laughed and Bucky could feel tears forming in his eyes. It was Steve. It was Steve and all his bright smiles and innocent eyes.

            It was Steve, and Bucky felt home.

            Bucky got to the elevator— _elevator!_ His excitement grew more and more by the second, and as he saw himself standing by the front door of 3B he couldn’t seemed to breathe.

            When the door opened he was greeted by Steve on his wheelchair. He grew up, he grew up a lot. He was still skinny compared to Bucky but Steve had grown out of that boney little kid he’d met when he was five.

            “Hi,” Steve said, almost as breathless as he was.

            “Hi,” Bucky smiled.

            Bucky entered the apartment, awkward at first but then Steve had chuckled and told him to sit and make himself comfortable. The apartment was nice, brown couch, a TV, the walls were covered with drawings and Bucky was taken back to those times where he’d watch Steve do his work. There was a small kitchen and a dining area, and two rooms—one probably his mother’s.

            They talked for a while, slowly easing themselves into the conversation. It was a pretty long time without them talking and at some moments things got a bit awkward, there were silences here and there but slowly, slowly, Bucky saw himself laughing with Steve.

            He asked about Mrs. Rogers at one point and Steve’s smile faltered. He turned to him with the smallest of smile and said, “She died 2 years ago.”

            “Oh. Steve,” Bucky sighed, “I’m sorry.”

            Steve just shrugged at him like he was shrugging the warm memory of his mother. Sarah was a great person, even a greater mother. Bucky had witnessed that.

            He then felt sad, a little guilty inside. He wasn’t there when Steve’s mother died, wasn’t there to comfort him, wasn’t there by his side. It must have been very lonely.

            “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Bucky said softly.

            “Well you’re here now,” Steve said, “Right?”

            Bucky smiled at him, nodded and said, “Yes.”

            Bucky checked the drawings on the wall. Steve had a degree on fine arts and was working as a cartoonist in a local magazine. He was happy for Steve. He was happy because Steve clearly didn’t let circumstances break him and instead he stood on his own two feet.

            “Do you have a place to stay?” He heard Steve asked from the kitchen.

            Bucky turned to look at him, “Uh. . .” he hasn’t really figured out where he’d stay when he got back. He could ask Clint if could crash for a couple of nights.

            “I’m looking for a roommate,” Steve smiled shyly.

            The idea of living with Steve thrilled him but the idea of sleeping on his mother’s room sadden him a bit so he said, “But it’s your mom’s room.”

            “She liked you,” Steve said, “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

            Bucky turned back to the drawings and mumbled, “Or we could just share a bed.”

            There was silence for a second and Bucky thought Steve hadn’t heard what he said but then Steve spoke, “I’d very much like that.”

            Bucky almost choked on his own spit and Steve laughed at him.

            They went silent after that, just staring at each other’s eyes. Bucky had missed him, he’d missed him so much and now that Steve was in front of him, smiling and waiting for him to say anything, he wouldn’t want to let him go.

            “How much for the rent?”

            “We could talk about it over dinner,” Steve smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.  
> i wasn't sure about the ending.  
> tell me how you liked it! kudos and comments are appreciated.  
> :)


End file.
